"A classic is something that everybody wants to have read and nobody wants to read." ~Mark Twain

LONG AWAY AND FAR AGO

By Uncle Chuck

The sun breeched the horizon with an almost audible tone. Lela and I awoke instantly and squinted into the white light blazing into our cabin, through the makeshift blinds. We had chosen this uncharted spot on the coast, last night in the dark, under full moons and picked the first area clear enough to set down.

I opened the hatch and the balmy tropical feeling air filled the cool cabin, there was not a wisp of wind and the dew dripped off of all the greenery around our campsite.

There was a sporadic rumble emanating from somewhere outside of the foliage and I stepped out to investigate. The moisture felt cool on my bare skin as I forged through the brush and when I broke out onto the sand and saw the water, my breath was taken.

The sea surface was as glassy as I’d ever seen, there were no ripples or bumps, nothing except this double overhead lump of rolling water, rushing toward the beach at a phenomenal pace. I watched dumbfounded as this huge swell raced in and not more than fifty meters from the shore, jacked straight upward then pitched into the most perfect, round barrel that this traveler had witnessed on any world.

The huge peak cracked and peeled right and left at an awesome pace and ended in a heap of white water tossed up on the steep dunes. As soon as this water receded back into the ocean, the surface was once again calm and smooth. I looked out over the horizon and spotted another swell as big as the first rushing in at the same pace and in a moment the sequence was repeated.

There was no more time to watch, I raced back through the forest, calling to Lela.

By the time I had traversed the short distance to the ship, Lela was outside the hatch and wondering what was wrong with me. I breathlessly explained the sight on the shore, while popping latches and tossing equipment and digging into the outer cargo bay.

In the depths of the bay were our boards, Lela brought three and I had five, including a longboard that we shared and a big wave gun, just in case.

This wave would require something fast and maneuverable. I chose my 1.5-meter tri-fin. Evolved from the thruster of the late Twentieth century, this board was developed by Mitek O’Hare, a young surf technician from the Southeast Quadrant, who pioneered the Dissofin system, which allows zero drag from the fins at full speed. It also had the Evoskin system that lowered the skim resistance to less than 2%.

I grabbed a pair of baggies, and some wax, (this is just my personal link to the past, as no one needs wax on the traction surfaces, these days).

Lela said, “Go ahead before you hurt yourself, I’ll be along in a few segments.”

With that I plunged into the trees, toward the beach.

I stepped gingerly into the water, you never know what is beneath the surface on these planets, as I jumped on my board the water splashed in my face and I noticed that it wasn’t salty like Earth oceans. The paddle was cake, even if there hadn’t been a perfect channel, this board planes over the water like a Sonja Ray, I hit the line-up in 60 segments flat.

I sat, watching for the next swell and was soon rewarded with the sight of another wave at least five meters in height. I paddled toward the peak and was shocked as the wave passed under me before I could even turn the board around; next time I’d be ready.

Another swell appeared and I turned and began paddling to where I anticipated that the peak would begin to pitch. As the wave approached, faster than anything I’d ever surfed, I dug deep and paddled with all my might. The wave rushed under me and lifted me higher and higher as I struggled to match speed with this monster. Finally, I felt myself propelled forward and bounded to my feet, with not a moment to spare.

As soon as my feet hit the board, the bottom of the wave disappeared and I began the steepest and fastest descent of my life. My O’Hare rocketed down the wave and just as the lip pitched I cranked a bottom turn reminiscent of the surfing pioneer Barry Kanniapuni. I was then at maximum speed and I felt the fin drag release, my eyes watered and the spray stung my skin as I pulled up into a cavernous tube. I tried to keep pace with the peeling lip but it was beginning to pass over me. I felt some apprehension and wondered for a split second why I hadn’t investigated the bottom and checked for hazards before I took a wave.

I tucked in tight and was really pumping, milking all the speed that I could get from the board. Finally the thing spit and I shot out of the tube, barely in contact with the face, weightless in the mist, it took me an instant to compose myself and then I arced back with all of my might, the rail and fins bit hard and flew me into a cutback with such force my legs could hardly stand against the G force.

I could hear Lela hooting from the beach only yards away as spray billowed into the air, as soon as my board was under me again I slammed into that roaring lip backside and went vertically into the air. The centripetal force held me against my deck and I free-fell back into the wave and followed the lip down, dropping like a hammer. When I reached the bottom, there was time for one more quick turn out the top, before the whole thing slammed onto the sand.

I stood there in calf deep water, in a state of shock, when Lela blasted past me headed for the lineup.

"What are you waiting for?", she yelled, "Let’s get out there!"

With that I jumped back on my board and stroked outside. As I approached Lela paddled and dropped effortlessly down the face, from behind the peak of another ocean anomaly.

Her beautiful body silhouetted against the glare of the morning sun as the lip hung inches over her golden hair levitating in the air. Lela can be pretty powerful in average waves, but when it is this big, her style becomes more art than sport, she looks so fluid and relaxed.

She never turned off of the bottom, but angled just a bit and pulled as high into the wave as she dared, her right hand brushed over the wave face, occasionally touching, as if reassuring and guiding this behemoth over and around her. Looking directly down the wave into the tube, I could just see Lela, partially hidden by spray and foam standing knees barely bent, arms up and back arched to the max and if I’m not mistaken eyes closed!

Being so caught up in watching, the lip almost drilled me, but as I went over the wave, I looked behind and saw Lela through the crystal water, still deep in the bowels of the wave. I reached the lineup as another perfect wave gathered its energy to rumble through this break at warp speed. Lela was coming up behind me and we paddled out a bit more to share the stoke.

As we sat and watched quite possibly the best wave we had discovered within this universe, we began to laugh and Lela reached out and placed her arm around me and said, “When you take a girl on a surf trip you don’t kid around, come on Captain, let’s get another!”

By Uncle Chuck

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